


on the radio

by elisela



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: His radio had been stripped off along with the rest of his gear, but Hen’s is within reach, and he makes a grab for it. “Buck,” he says, in what he hopes is a very calm and professional manner, “come on man, you gotta get out, that section isn’t stable. Everyone is accounted for.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 403





	on the radio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spinningincircles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/gifts).



> My sweet Lauren, the light of my life, asked for shouted love confessions. One very dramatic Eddie Diaz later, here we are.

The thing is, Eddie can see it all playing out in front of him, all the horrible ways Buck can die in that fucking apartment building. A ceiling caves in, sending a few hundred pounds of furniture onto his head, pinning him down with no way out. A staircase collapses and he’s falling, hands reaching out to grasp frantically at the air, coming up empty. A doorway gets blocked, sealing him off from the outside, from safety.

A hundred different ways he can die.

Eddie sees them all.

“—an _order_ , Buckley,” Bobby stresses, frustrated, beside him. 

Buck had ignored the last two orders; Eddie knows there’s no way he’s listening to this one. All Buck had to hear was that there was a possibility of another kid in apartment 3B and he’d gone tearing back inside, lifting one hand above his head when Bobby had gotten on the radio to relay the _fall back_ order again.

The other thing is—Eddie would have done the same, if he hadn’t currently been sitting on a stretcher, Hen wrapping gauze around his arm where his turnout had caught on a jagged piece of metal and ripped a hole big enough that a chunk of burning ceiling coming down had left a burn on his skin. 

That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it.

His radio had been stripped off along with the rest of his gear, but Hen’s is within reach, and he makes a grab for it. “Buck,” he says, in what he hopes is a very calm and professional manner, “come on man, you gotta get out, that section isn’t stable. Everyone is accounted for.” He ignores the look Bobby gives him, the _he didn’t answer for me, what makes you think_ —and the way Hen snorts and shakes her head.

“ _Just_ — _got there_ ,” Buck’s voice gasps out of the radio. “ _Two minutes, I swear_.”

Bobby reaches for his radio and stops. “Tell him if he’s not out of that door in two minutes—” he doesn’t finish the threat; Eddie’s pretty sure Bobby doesn’t want to have to follow through with whatever it was going to be.

The northwest corner of the building creaks, then crumbles, sparks flying upwards and swirling in the air, black smoke and ash billowing behind; they look like fireworks, and the sight of them fills Eddie’s stomach with dread. “Stop fucking around and get out,” he snaps into the radio. “The building’s coming down, Buck.”

“ _Just gonna clear one more room_ ,” Buck says. “ _Better me than you_.” He’s panting; a tiny reassurance that he’s hurrying, but Eddie won’t be happy until Buck’s standing right next to him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says, throwing professionalism right out the window. Another crash and he watches as a balcony comes down—fourth floor, right above where Buck is. 

“ _Chris_ ,” Buck says. “ _You’ve got_ —” there’s a heart-stopping silence; Eddie’s gripping the radio so tightly his fingers turn white, “— _home to him_. _You matter more_.”

He can hear the team muttering around him; none of it matters. He’s so fucking done with Buck and his impulsivity—no matter how often he pulls a miracle out of thin air—his insistence that he’s the most expendable one on the team, his willingness to treat himself like his life is worth less. There are days Eddie can handle it, when he can reason with Buck, when he can support him in whatever genius but rash idea he comes up with, but this is not that day. “Yeah, well you might not think so but you matter to _me_ , Buck, and I’m tired of you thinking you don’t.”

Hen’s hand settles on his shoulder, gentle; her thumb rubs against the back of his neck. It doesn’t matter—Buck’s voice is on the radio, saying his name, and Eddie’s heart crashes to the ground along with the corner of the roof. “— _you so mad?_ ”

He should let Bobby respond. Hen. Chim. Anyone. He should let them take over and calmly, but firmly, tell Buck what he means to them, how it feels when he’s so quick to throw his own life away for his job, for a person who may not even exist. Instead, he’s raising the radio to his mouth, eyes fixed firmly on the ground, not wanting to see what’s happening in front of him, words spilling out faster than he can understand them, before he has a chance to rein them back in. “I’m mad because you always do this, Buck! Because you go crashing into situations with little regard for your own life, for _me_ , for Chris—”

“Eddie—”

“I’m _mad_ because I fucking _love you_ and you’re not going to see it until it’s too late!”

“Eds—”

“Just get out of the building,” he snaps, aware that his team is watching him, aware that he’s probably going to get written up later, aware that Buck—

is standing in front of him, sinking down on his knees, helmet spinning in circles where he’d knocked it off his head, still gloved hand curling around Eddie’s chin and tilting it up.

Aware that he’d interrupted Eddie not through his radio, but—

Fuck.

“Not how I thought you’d tell me,” Buck says, his tone far too light for this type of conversation, and Eddie’s cheeks burn when he sees the rest of the team has shifted slightly to make it apparent that they aren’t watching. “Way to be romantic, Eddie.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie mutters. His heart’s just getting used to beating again; he doesn’t have it in him to banter, to figure out how to salvage this situation, because this isn’t how he planned on telling Buck, either—not that he’d gotten around to doing any planning at all. But Buck’s whispering to look at him, and his hand is gently guiding Eddie’s face, eyes searching out his gaze, and Eddie is helpless—until Bobby clears his throat.

“This _is_ an active scene,” he says dryly, and Eddie can’t help but smile when Buck rolls his eyes. “Hen, finish up with Diaz while Buck gets checked out by Chim, then you two need to get back on the hose.”

Buck’s still watching him; before he stands up to be led away, he smiles. “I’m gonna tell you later, Eddie,” he says quietly, then winks when he adds, “one of us deserves better than being shouted at in the middle of work, at least.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me @ [hearteyesforbuck](http://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com).


End file.
